


A Stitch In Time, Saves Nine

by ShianneUrami



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Blood, Moirails, Mutilation, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance, Self-Destruction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 01:37:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShianneUrami/pseuds/ShianneUrami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stitch in time, saves nine. If only they had been sooner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Stitch In Time, Saves Nine

Your teeth creaked under the pressure you put on them. Just enough so you couldn’t scream. No screaming. You were done screaming. You would never again utter a sound over a whisper. You hurt her. You broke her. Your kitten. Footsteps scuffling along the pavement and a voice,  
  
“Kur?”  
  
Mituna.  
  
You hunkered down into your hiding place a little farther. A pair of yellow boots passed your sight.  
  
“Kurlothk, where’re you?!”  
  
The sound of your moirial so frantic. You didn’t know what to do. Going out would upset him. Staying would upset him. He was easily upset, but it was your job to make sure he was alright. Protect him. And protect the world from him. Indigo purple blood dripped across the pavement, the string and needle dangled from your lips as you pressed yourself back flush to the wall.  
  
Far off you can hear him growling in a frustrated fit. With a sharp sigh there’s footsteps again, coming back in your direction. He’s rambling and it doesn’t even sound like a language. He doesn’t sound happy. Kind of flighty and panicked. Those yellow boots came to a staggered halt in front of your hiding place.  
  
“Kur...” He sounded small and lost.  
  
You just couldn’t keep yourself hidden. Not now. You pulled yourself up, out of the corner of your mouth, “Mmm-”  
  
The troll turned around, a bright smile on his face. It took a moment to register and a moment after for the smile to fade. “K-k...ur?”  
  
He sounded so fucking broken down. You were the one with your face half stitched up and your tongue in useless shreds. But through it all Mituna was able to sound worse. Hopeless. He’d been through his fair share of trouble, and you couldn’t help but pity the fuck out of him. You were as pale as it got for him. You’d do anything to protect him. But right then, you wanted to run and hide. Hide so he couldn’t see his diamond bro in the shambles that you were. You were the stronger of the two. You were the protector. Not the protectee. Someone needed to look after Mituna. Someone needed to be there for him. And you were. The mustard didn’t deserve to see his moirail in such condition.  
  
A gloved hand cupped your cheek while you were lost in thought. Your vision focused to Mituna and he pulled his hand away, fumbling with the buckle under his chin. Even with both hands, the slight tremor made it difficult. Your hands shook too, but you hold the buckle and he lets go, looking up at you with something that’s a mix of irritation and guilt. You left the two straps to dangle and he took his helmet off, a film of yellow tears already bubbling up against those dead white eyes.  
  
“Kur, why? I-” He questions again, tripping over his own words. Before he gets too far into another frustrated fit you shook your head, the same film of indigo purple clouding your own vision.  
  
“But- But Kur, why?”  
  
The yellow glove was slow, very light as it brushed over the stitches. You never flinched. That first choked sob from the mustard hurt worse than chewing up your tongue. Didn’t hurt as much as listening to your kitten panic and cry, but it still cut deep. You shook your head, the first of your tears rolling over.  
  
“Kur, Kur why?” He repeated, his lip quivering. “No. No, Kurluthk! Fuckin’ bulgebitin’ ass- augh!”  
  
Mituna cut off into a rant of slurs and snarled threats at nothing. You only understand half of it, but he shakes his head quickly, leaning his head against your chest for a moment before pulling back and going back into his small speal. When he’s done, his fists are clenched at his sides and his shoulders quiver with anger and frustration and sadness.  
  
You let your hand brush his shoulder. You had always been careful when it came to his personal space since the accident. Sometimes he was antsy about his space, and you understood. He didn’t show the normal signs of uneasiness and you take the cue and pull him into your arms, shaking your head. You were tall enough that the curved needle just barely tinked against his one of his horns.  
  
He looked up at you, mustard lines trailing down his face, “But... we can’t talk anymore. I like talking to Kur! Jus-csh-augh!”  
  
You put a finger to his lips, glancing around. You didn’t need the others to know. Not yet. You weren’t done. You still needed to finish the job. You couldn’t hurt anyone again. You were struggling though. With the fact he was there. You could do this alone, but with him here, you weren’t so sure. The pain had started to turn to a frigid numbness. You we’re confident in your highblood durability. Chewing off your own tongue wasn’t going to kill you. Bigger things needed your attention. You needed to make up your failure and repent for what you did. The Mirthful Messiahs needed to take you back into their good graces. And to do that you needed to make sure you never hurt anyone again.  
  
Mituna took your cue, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper, “But... I... Kur-” He was sobbing then. He sobbed into your chest and looked up at you now and again, shaking his head, rubbing his tears all over your clothes. You didn’t mind. At least he was here with you when you needed him, regardless of your better judgement.  
  
“It’th fair! Augh no! Not! Fuckin-!” He yelled, tapering off into incoherent blubbering and half formed words. Frustrated with the situation and his inability to properly say what he needed to.  
  
You did the only thing you can think and try to calm him down. Pap the stress away and shoosh away the fears. Your fingers carded through his hair and you rubbed his back as he cried. You we’re crying too, but then it was about him. It had always been about him. It always would be. You’d never give your moirail for the world. He was frustrated and unhappy and you couldn’t blame him. You don’t regret it, but you’re ashamed he had to find you like this.  
  
“I canth’t talk right anyway, I don’t care! Be sewed up!”  
  
Eventually his small shaking frame in your grip didn’t shake as much. He hiccuped now and again, but you were pretty sure he’d gotten it all out of his system. Mituna looked up at you, a finger curling under the needle. The light grey ring in his dead eyes flitted over your features for a moment before he took the needle in between his fingers lightly, holding it carefully.  
  
“Kur hurts, I’ll help.”  
  
The first time the needle broke skin again it stung. A lot. Like it was on fire. Up through the bottom lip, then through the top lip, only a little off from the previous stitch. You were proud of him, he wasn’t shaking much. He was better. Or... getting better. You held his hand to get him to stop. He looked up at you and shook your head, brushing a hand through his hair, the corners of your mouth perked up despite the pain it brought you and the tears dried on your cheeks.  
  
He watched with a few hiccups racking his body and a still quivering lip as you finished the job. You tied the knot at the end, fumbling for a moment, not sure how to cut the bindings. Mituna’s face was suddenly very close, and he held the needle, biting through the string. He stayed there, his cheek against yours for a while, and you knew it would be alright.  
  
He was broken, and you were broken. But you had each other. You didn’t know how things will go with Meulin, and you didn’t know how things will go with Latula, but you would be here for him no matter what posed a threat. If he needed to scream, he could scream. If he needed to cry, he could cry. And when he needed to laugh, you’d do your best to cheer him up. You knew that even though it was hard for him to convey things like he used to, he meant well in all that he did and attempted to say. You knew that if you needed him, he’d be there.

The smaller troll swiped his thumb along your chin, wiping up a trail of blood.  
  
You shifted a little and looked down at him, making a circle with one hand. He scrubbed away the crusted streams of mustard from his face with a sniffle, tilting his head slightly. You waited. He’d get it.  
  
“O?”  
  
You nodded and formed the best K you could manage. It took a few tries on both of your parts until,  
  
“K?”  
  
Another confirmation and put your hands together slowly. Mituna thought it over and asked,  
  
“OK?”  
  
You nodded quickly and he understood. And he smiled, “Okay. Mit-Mituna and Kurloz okay. Gonna be A-O-Fucking-Kay!”  
  
Two fingers you held up, a gesture he immediately finished, closing the diamond with two fingers, smiling up at you. Through all that happened, that gesture had stayed. He’d remembered that.  
  
You have each other.  
  
Through it all.  
  
It’s what moirails were for.  
  
Protection, safety and comfort.  
  
It would all be okay.  
  
You'd be okay.  
  
♦


End file.
